Heavy Armor and Heavier Hearts
by Mayofish
Summary: It had been ten years since she had defeated the Archdemon — ten years since Alistair became king.


Belwynn couldn't sleep. She hadn't wanted to return to Denerim. It had been ten years since she had set foot in the city and ten years since she had defeated the Archdemon — ten years since Alistair became king. She was older and wiser and it came at the price of bitterness. It had swelled in her gut, making her sick.

She was sobering up after being drunk nearly the entire time in Denerim and she contemplated reaching for her wine skin. Her head hurt and it wasn't from the alcohol. For the first time in almost ten years, Belwynn felt like crying. She balled her fists and took a swig. Then, she threw herself out of her bed and walked out of the inn.

It was late and the guards at the front of the castle jumped up to stop her — surprised anyone, let alone a dwarf, was approaching this late into the night.

"The Castle is closed."

"I'm the Hero of Fereldan," she said through gritted teeth and crossed her arms.

She hated calling herself that and she hated using it. She never felt like a hero — she never asked to be a hero. They drew back slightly, exchanging looks. The mumbled to each other briefly and then opened the doors for her. They all knew the rumors.

"D-do you need an escort, milady?"

"No."

She stepped inside and everything felt heavy. It had been ten years. She took a deep breath and reached for her wine skin before stopping herself. She felt naked without her heavy armor. She started down the halls and was surprised that she remembered where the royal chambers were. A few guards glanced at her but none stopped her, a female dwarf in the castle only meant one thing. Finally, she stood, frozen, outside of the elegant bedroom door. She swallowed.

She had not seen Alistair in ten years and the two of them had not really parted on good terms. She knew he had tried to get in contact with her but she had ignored his every attempt. But now, with the delivery of the specially made wine, she couldn't bring herself to ignore him.

It had been dwarven wine. The best. With a label directed to her.

Belwynn threw open the door. The man in the bed jumped, squealed in a way that made her heart hurt and started fumbling for his sword.

"W-who's there?! How did you get past my guards?!"

"Is that anyway to greet a fellow Grey Warden?" she could barely breathe but she took a step into the room and closed the door behind her.

Alistair froze and slowly turned to look at her. There was a faint light from the moon shining in and he could make out her figure.

"Bel...? Belwynn is that really you?" He jumped out of bed and started to run at her, then stopped —hesitated. He fell to his knees in front of her and grabbed her hands. "Oh, Belwynn, it really is you..."

She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes and growled, "Get up. You're a king now, Alistair."

He looked up at her and stood awkwardly. He let go of her hands and cleared his throat, "You got my letters then?"

"Every one."

"Really?! I thought they never reached you...you never wrote back..."

She shifted, "I've been doing nothing but studies down in the Deep Roads, but that doesn't mean I don't get letters."

He frowned, "So you..."

"Ignored them. Yes."

Alistair stood up straight, suddenly serious, "Then why are you here? Why now?"

She looked down, "Because those travelers brought me the wine."

He blushed and looked away, "Bel, look, I'm sorry! I've missed you every day for ten years."

"What about your duties, _King_ Alistair?" it came out more bitter than she intended.

He looked hurt, like she had struck him, "I...I...can't bring myself to sleep with any other woman..." he looked terribly flustered and embarrassed.

Belwynn broke out in laughter suddenly, "Ancestors take you. You are a grown man, Alistair!"

"And what about you? Have you gotten over what we had so easily?!" He snapped.

She withdrew, her breathe getting caught in her throat, "I...have not."

Alistair let his shoulders slump, "Maker...what a mess..."

There was an awkward silence, neither of them looked at each other. The air was heavy. Ten years and Belwynn still wanted to throw herself into his arms. She had meant to get over him and wanted nothing more for _him_ to get over _her_. She wanted him to forget entirely the terrible burden of being a Grey Warden. She wanted to carry that burden alone. But they both knew the taint still lived in their veins, still left them shaking after nightmares. And soon, they would both find themselves left with nothing but the voices of the Calling — clawing in the dark Deep Roads with nothing but Darkspawn until death finally claimed them. What then, Belwynn thought, would happen to the Ferelden throne?

"I'm leaving with those travelers tomorrow. They say they're working with the Inquisitor. Want me to take them to the red lyrium I found," she broke the silence, glancing back at the door.

"Red lyrium? Bel, that stuff is dangerous."

"Alistair. We killed an Archdemon. We stopped a Blight. And we _lived._ "

He sighed, "I don't want to lose you."

She wrinkled her nose, "This is the first time we have seen each other in ten years."

"But I knew you were alive! Maker, you said yourself you haven't forget about us, Belwynn."

"We can't very well just go back to how we were like nothing happened. _You hurt me,_ Alistair." Her shoulders shook. It took him a moment to realize she was crying. " _Ten_ years, Alistair. You needed an heir. It has been ten years and you still don't have one. You left me for _nothing_."

"Bel..." he reached out for her.

She grabbed his wrist, tugging him down to her level and kissed him so hard his lips bruised. She pushed him back onto the bed, biting his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood and crawled on top of him. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his lips back to hers and this time he had enough time to respond. He kissed her back with just as much force, grabbing her clothes and and pulling at them. She leaned back just enough for him to pull her shirt over her head and then she started biting his neck, ripping his shirt open, buttons popping off and flying in all directions. She was not gentle and every touch, every kiss, left bruises and blood in their wake. She was hurting and she wanted him to feel it.

He groaned, dragging his nails down her back and flipped them over. He left marks across her neck and collarbone and mentally counted each new freckle. She rolled her hips, tossing her head back. He pinched her nipples and kissed her again. It was a mess of teeth and tongue and every emotion they had felt for ten long years. She clawed at his pants, moaning into his mouth. He ground his hips against hers and grabbed her wrists, tugging her hands away.

She growled and he knew she was strong enough to fight back if she really wanted to. She didn't just bit his lip again, dragging her tongue across it slowly. He managed to slip off her pants and wiggle out of his own all while she pressed herself against him in a shaking mess. He barely got their pants off before she was reaching down and squeezing his member. He moaned loudly, his hips jerking into her hand. She guided him to her and he pushed inside of her with a sharp thrust.

They both sighed loudly.

She dug her nails into his back and he pulled her legs up to thrust deeper. She threw her head back, meeting his thrusts with her own. They were certainly not quiet and neither where going to last long. She dug her teeth into any inch of flesh she could reach and his hand left large bruises on her thighs.

"Bel...I'm close," he hissed, squeezing her thighs.

She cursed, rolling her hips, "Come for me, then," she panted.

He groaned and with another sharp jerk of his hips, he spilled himself inside of her. She followed quickly, crying out. They laid their panting, just clinging to each other in a sweaty and slightly bloody mess.

"I love you," Alistair said finally.

She opened her eyes and smiled slightly, "I guess I could say the same about you."

He laughed, pulling her tightly against him.

Alistair was used to waking up to an empty spot next to him, but not a bottle of wine on the nightstand. The label was handwritten in dwarven: 'all is forgiven, my love'.

He spoke to his guards and got word that a band of travelers led by a heavily armored dwarf had left the city at sunrise — heading towards the Deep Roads.


End file.
